


let me adore you (like it's the only thing I'll ever do)

by ShatterinSeconds



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Blade of Marmora Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Minor Ezor/Zethrid (Voltron), Post-Canon, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: Zethrid claps them on the backs, knocking the breath from Lance’s lungs. “Why didn’t you tell us you were getting hitched?”“We, uh, this was--”“It was a beautiful ceremony.” Ezor pops up from behind Zethrid with Acxa not far behind at all.They’re really gathering a crowd now--of three people, but it’s still a crowd.“Will someone please start making sense…?” Lance’s voice cracks.(or a post canon accidental marriage fic for the holidays)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 712





	let me adore you (like it's the only thing I'll ever do)

**Author's Note:**

> I got side tracked trying to write a wedding scene for my witch!Lance/vampire!Keith au and this happened. I also like to write a yearly holiday-ish type fic, so everything just fell together, except I didn’t expect to write a random 3k fic during finals lmao.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy:)
> 
> Title from Adore You by Harry Styles

Snowflakes land on Keith’s pale skin, immediately melting and leaving tiny droplets on his cheeks. Lance brings up his free hand and brushes them away, watching as a few more collect in those long eyelashes and his hair. It’s not quite snow, not this far away from Earth, but it’s white, fluffy, and not toxic to humans--hopefully. The few flakes that melt on Lance’s lips taste salty. 

The weather on this planet warps Lance’s sense of time--if he remembers correctly, it’s nearing summer back on Earth, no where close to the winter months. Despite the snow-like substance, the air around them isn’t bone crushingly cold. Their Blade of Marmora suits have insulated them well in this type of weather  but unfortunately they're not in their suits. With some needed convincing on Keith's part, they have both opted for more casual clothes. Every gust of wind sends Lance’s shirt billowing, revealing an opening to let in some of the nipping air.

Keith's hair is free from its usual plait, falling close to the middle of his back. It's gotten so long over the years that Lance almost forgets the time when he used to call it a mullet. Lance is twenty-four now, and seven years  _ is  _ a long time. 

But that's not to say Lance still won't do it occasionally, when his boyfriend will least expect it, to get a rise out of Keith. That’s the best part. Just because they have been dating for three-ish years doesn’t mean the teasing remarks were simply going to stop.

“Why didn’t you talk me into wearing warmer clothes?” Lance grumbles, making sure his hands remain trapped between Keith’s to leech all that heat. Keith had opted for a full length jacket for once, and it looks extra toasty inside. 

“I tried but you said, and I quote, “fashion trumps comfort.””

“Past Lance was a complete idiot.”

“I’m glad we agree,” Keith says only to receive a light punch to his arm for his effort. His fingers intertwine with Lance again and begins to lead Lance close to the heart of the festival, where the central fire pit roars with welcoming heat. “Let’s move to the fire.”

Lance hums in agreement. “This is why I need you in my life.”

As soon as they settle onto the bench only a couple feet away from the fire pit, the stone cold underneath Lance’s ass, Lance cuddles into his boyfriend. His head rests on Keith’s shoulder, face practically buried in his hair, and his lips find the pulse point on Keith’s neck. Keith shivers at the unexpected touch. 

Watching the fire, eyes trailing after the sparks as they go up, up, up, Lance’s hands keep busy by lazily braiding a few locks of Keith’s hair together, but he can already sense himself starting to drift off. He’s caught in the warmth of Keith’s body and the arm around his waist and the fire in front of him. Lance doesn’t realize they have company until Keith gently nudges him back to reality. 

Quedar, leader of the Nolaxians and someone they have been working alongside with for four months now, stands in front of them. With her hands clasped together, she says, “We hope you’re enjoying the festival.”

“Very much so,” Keith says, his newly acquired diplomatic smile gracing his features. Lance has often watched Keith practice it in the mirror when he thinks no one is around; it’s a humorous sight to behold. “Thank you for hosting us on our last night.”

“It is truly an honor, but we must ask for forgiveness.” Quedar snaps her fingers and another Nolax steps forward, two flower crowns hanging on their arm. Their lime green eyes hesitate to look at them. Gesturing to the crowns, she continues. “These should have been presented to you right away. We apologize for our tardiness; the wreaths were only just completed.” 

That smile fractures in confusion. “That’s… alright?”

“They’re lovely,” Lance jumps in before a diplomatic incident can occur from a misunderstanding. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” Especially since, Lance soon realizes as he swings he gaze around the area, no one else seems to have been presented with a similar flower crown or will be. But they are the primary leaders of the Blade’s outreach missions now, so it may simply be an honorific tradition. 

“But we did; everything must be perfect.” 

Keith’s practiced smile is back in full force. “We appreciate it.”

With that, the wreaths are placed on their heads, with a few words in Nolaxian spoken above them, and they’re left to their own devices again. A few of the branches poke into Lance’s head but the extra weight soon becomes unnoticeable as the seconds pass. The red and orange flowers of Keith’s wreath stand out against the backdrop of his black hair--a starless night sky. Lance opens his mouth to speak some supportive compliment but Keith beats him to it, who had, up until this point, been silently staring at him.

“They’re the color of your eyes,” Keith says, almost lost in thought as he flicks one of the flowers that are entwined on the wreath. 

Lance beams under the attention; it’s hard not to. “Tell me, Keith, do I look stunning with a flower crown? I’ve always wanted to know.”

“Fishing for compliments has never  _ once  _ worked out for you,” Keith stresses, which Lance feels had been entirely unnecessary. 

“Can’t you indulge me just this once?”

Keith tilts his head in thought and after a long excoriating moment, he replies, “You look... pretty.” Lance blinks, unimpressed. 

“That’s really all you had in you, huh?”

“You know I’m not good with words,” Keith says before there’s a touch of a smirk tingling at his mouth. “Better with actions _. _ ” He leans in to steal a kiss but Lance stops him by lying his hand flat on Keith’s face. There is a muffled sound of protest; Lance ignores it. 

Rolling his eyes, a ‘tsk’ sits on his tongue. “And I was going to say you look beautiful but I don’t think you deserve it anymore.”

“Oh no,” Keith deadpans after he bats away Lance’s hand, “How will I ever make it up to you?”

The sly grin on Lance’s face has Keith already retreating in fear, eyes darting around for an escape route or someone he can quickly draw into conversation--which Lance knows is his ultimate form of torture. But tonight Lance has no sympathy. “I’m glad you asked that because I feel like dancing.”

Groaning, Keith stubbornly crosses his arms as he pouts. “Is complimenting you off the table now?”

“Come on, you big baby.” Lance taps on his arms before Keith allows them to hang loose in his lap. Dragging him up from the bench, Lance begins to march them over to the dance floor, covered with an open tent to shield it from the snow. His hand encircles Keith’s wrist, tight enough so he can’t escape. “Just be glad you don’t have two left feet anymore.”

Keith’s retort is interrupted by the same Nolax from earlier scampering over to them. A little out of breath, they block their way, holding up a goblet. “Before you two dance, you must drink.”

Lance is handed the goblet first--it’s squat with a wide rim, and a few opaque jewels have been pressed into the metal. The body of the goblet is cold against Lance’s fingers, probably from being outside all this while. “What’s this?” Swirling the cup, the liquid is dark, almost having a creamy type of texture as if it’s melted chocolate. 

“The traditional drink.”

Lance shrugs, muttering a quiet, “Alright,” and tips the goblet back without hesitation. An immediate mistake for Lance’s taste buds. The drink coats the inside of his mouth in a syrupy, candied mess as he swallows, and Lance’s entire mouth tingles, gums clenching at the stark sweetness. Lance smacks his lips and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Try it; I don’t want to suffer alone.” He thrusts the goblet into Keith’s hand, challenging him with a pointed gaze and wicked tilt to his lips.

“What I do for you, love.” Keith downs the rest of the contents. Clenching his eyes shut as the drink passes down his throat, his lips pucker. His eyes hold a hint of betrayal though he knew exactly what he was getting into. “Thanks for sharing, Lance.”

“No problem,” Lance says with a laugh, grabbing at the opportunity to pull Keith to the dance floor while he’s focused on ridding the taste in his mouth and thus has no chance to protest. 

When they finally step out on the dance floor, the music swiftly changes as if the musicians were waiting for them. It’s the type of beat that has people instantly clapping along and others pulling them into one of the small circles that quickly form. It’s one of those dances where you have to dance with others first before you find the partner you actually wanted to be with. Lance remembers these things from old-timey movies he would watch with his mom and sisters. 

He hooks arms and hands with Nolaxians and other members of the Blade of Marmora who’ve decided to join in. It’s fun, but Lance really wanted to dance with Keith and has only caught a few glimpses of him over the heads of others, long hair flying behind him. Then the music takes on a softer tone, and with one final turn, he’s led to the inner edge of the larger circle that formed throughout the dance, an opening made for them in the middle. Keith resides at the other end. 

The flowers on the wreaths begin to glow the moment their eyes lock, brightening with every step they take closer to each other. One step: Lance’s heart pumps in rhythm to the dance. Two steps: his eyes never leave Keith’s face even when someone takes his hand one last time before pushing him towards his boyfriend. Three steps: only an inch away now.

When they finally grab hold of each other again, Keith drags Lance close, lips parting to say, “You’re ethereal.”

Lance sucks in a sharp breath. Because truly Keith is the ethereal one with the red glow of the flowers dusting his pale skin and inky hair and the way his lips quirk in amusement, those eyes reflecting all the stars above them. “Damn, now you’re stepping up your game. How did I snatch up such an amazing man?”

“It certainly wasn’t with your pick up lines.”

“ _ Asshole _ .” Lance grins, moving in for a kiss. Keith’s chapped lips draw him forward, pulling lightly on his lower lip. Hands are in Lance’s hair, bodies flush against each other. Deciding breathing isn’t worth it, Lance presses deeper, wanting, and Keith indulges him with this. 

Lance’s hand drifts lower, resting on Keith’s ass, and he smirks into the kiss, quite proud of himself. He has to swallow a chuckle when he feels Keith’s grunt of disbelief against his lips. 

“Unbelievable,” Keith mutters but doesn’t push his hand away. Instead he dips Lance. The light from Keith’s wreath brushes across Lance’s face; he can see it in the darkness behind his closed eyes. To stable himself, Lance places his arms around Keith’s neck, fingers buried in his hair, enjoying this fully and completely forgetting the very public setting they originally started in. 

The sound of clapping is the only thing that draws them back to the real world. Trapped in a post-kiss haze, lips bitten red, Lance makes an effort to focus his mind enough to properly understand what’s going on. 

“Were we really that good of a show?” Lance mumbles.

Keith’s eyebrows are furrowed, flush on his face but his hands remain on Lance’s hips, pressing gently into his skin. “This is why I should never dance.”

Lance flicks him in the cheek for that comment.

Quedar eventually breaks through the masses, walking up to them as if to explain the situation but instead adds to the mass of confusion swimming in Lance’s mind. “We’re truly honored to have hosted and witnessed the conjoining of two Paladins of Voltron.”

“Wh-What?”

“To see two perfect souls joined by the universe for eternity….” Quedar trails off wistfully before reining her thoughts back in. “You two must want to be alone, but I wanted to express my congratulations on your union.” She bows to them before hastily walking away, shooing off a few other Nolaxians who may have also wished to congratulate them on… something. 

A wordless question on his tongue, Lance turns to Keith but Zethrid unexpectedly claps them on the backs, knocking the breath from Lance’s lungs. “Why didn’t you tell us you were getting hitched?”

“We, uh, this was--” Lance still can’t find his voice.

“It was a beautiful ceremony.” Ezor pops up from behind her girlfriend with Acxa not far behind at all.

They’re really gathering a crowd now--of three people, but it’s still a  _ crowd _ . 

“Will someone please start making  _ sense _ …?” Lance’s voice cracks.

“The wreaths, the drink, the dance? It’s the traditional conjoining ceremony for the Nolaxian people. You accepted every stage of the ceremony,” Acxa says, with a slight bit of exasperation to her tone as if they should have known this, which they probably should have. In Lance’s defense, he may have only skimmed the information packet they collected about the Nolaxian culture--but with the purest intentions to read it in full, but he’s been distracted lately.

“We got married?” Lance questions, more for himself. It’s not hard to realize that he’s the only one being vocal about this confusing situation. Keith remains a silent presence behind him.

“Maybe we should have done it too, Zethrid,” Ezor muses, her attention diverting back to her girlfriend. “It was very pretty.”

“No, no, you deserve something better than  _ spontaneous _ ,” Zethrid begins to say and the two women wander off, potentially discussing future wedding plans. 

Acxa stares at them in slight sympathy. “I’ll leave you two to sort it out. Congrats, by the way.”

Lance’s eyes drift back to Keith once she too departs only to discover a crestfallen look on his face. Those gray-violet eyes shine with something indecipherable as he watches Keith’s Adam’s apple bob as he thickly swallows. “Keith, what’s wro--”

“I’m sorry, Lance,” Keith starts, shaking his head, bangs shadowing his eyes. “You deserved better than this. We don’t--”

“Come here,” Lance interrupts, hand folding into Keith’s as he drags his boyfriend-- _ husband _ , his mind corrects, holy fuck--away from the festival. Away from all the pretty lights and pulsing music towards a stone wall overlooking the valley below. Their shoes crunch on the light dusting of snow that has covered the ground throughout the evening. Everything about the festival fades into the background. The stars are their audience now.

“We can just ignore this ever happened,” Keith begins in a rush to complete his thought from before. “I know how much a typical proposal and wedding meant to you--”

“Keith, listen to me. When have we ever done anything typical? Of course I had fantasies of what my perfect wedding would look like but the only constant in all those daydreams was  _ you.  _ All I care about is getting married-- _ being  _ married to you.” Lance gazes at Keith, bright smile on his lips as he finishes saying, “And I think it turned out perfect in the end.” Lance’s hands cup Keith’s face, watching those worried eyes soften in realization. His skin is cold to the touch, and the tip of his nose and ears are red, though Lance could also believe that’s the tell-tale start of a blush. His thumb brushes the long scar cutting across Keith’s right cheek. “I love you, Keith, and I would like to be married to you.”

“Yeah?” Keith breathes, hopeful.

“ _Yeah.”_ Lance grins. “Besides, you can’t argue with the universe. We were always meant to be together. Sooner is much more preferable than later.”

“I guess this was our type of wedding,” Keith muses, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and resting his forehead against Lance’s. “You’re the only person I’d want to be accidentally married to. I love you too, so much.”

“That’s the best confession you’ve ever given me, Kogane--wait.” Lance bites his lower lip in thought; his blue eyes roam over Keith’s face, searching.  "What are we going to be? Commander Kogane-McClain is kind of a mouth full," Lance remarks, testing the potential name on his tongue. "I wouldn't mind just taking--"

"Your name," Keith blurts out suddenly.

A moment passes before it all catches up with Lance. "What?"

"I want to take your name. Kogane can just become my middle name," Keith explains, a boat load of confidence in his words. 

" _ Keith _ ."

“Don’t argue; I’ve never thought twice about doing it any differently.”

Lance releases a breath, answering Keith first with a quick nod. “Okay, okay, but I call honeymoon on Earth. Like right after this mission.”  _ Right now,  _ Lance wants to say,  _ let’s leave everything and everyone and fly back to Earth. I want to see you glow in Earth’s sun and shine under her moon.  _ Lance sticks to his daydreams for now. “With beaches and summer and not the cold. And rings; we definitely need to get some rings. That is one custom I am not going to throw away just because we’re in space.” 

“We probably need to go back anyway to tell people about--” Keith rapidly gestures between them, light blush on his pale cheeks “-- _ this _ . Everyone’s going to be pissed we eloped.” 

All the happiness in Lance’s face drains for a moment as his features slacken in realization of something very important--a brief memory of promising up and down to his mother when he left for space for a second time that he wouldn’t do something crazy… like  _ get married _ . The pacing starts soon after, Lance’s hands roughly carding through his hair, knocking off the flower crown that Keith has the reflexes to catch. “Oh shit, my family’s going to  _ murder  _ me.”

“Ha,” Keith snorts as if he’s not going to get an earful from Shiro, “Good luck with that.”

Whipping around, Lance marches towards Keith and pokes him in the chest, leaning in dangerously close as the crown is placed back on his head. “Don’t you think for a second I’m not dragging you down with me…  _ husband. _ ”

A soft laugh passes across Keith’s lips as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. His words scream sarcasm but the emotion in his eyes melt the moment he catches Lance’s gaze. “I’m so glad I married you.”

Lance smiles. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Keith McClain has a nice ring to it.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos:)


End file.
